I'll Teach You How To Love Me
by janya.wrote.nightrose
Summary: One of the werewolves imprints on a mysterious woman. He travels to the ends of the earth to find her, and then discovers he has an impossible task. He doesn't just have to convince her he loves her- he has to convince her love exists at all. Please R&R.
1. You're Beautiful

**Please look up James Blunt's "You're Beautiful" and listen to it while watching. This is a meta-songfic, so it'll be better if you do. And REVIEW!!**

Chapter One: You're Beautiful

It is a normal day when you first see her, but then all days are normal. They all begin the same, bland and identical but ripe with potential. It is only those things which transpire that make a day special as this one will be.

You are walking in crowded Seattle, fighting your way down to the subway station. Jake and Quil are on either side of you. The three of you are on what Sam has termed an _imprinting vacation._ You and Quil have been dragging Jake all over the state, trying to find the one who will get him over Bella. So far, he's only gotten frustrated.

Quil is baby-sitting Claire. He's on probation for changing her diaper the last time her parents left him alone with her. He is somewhat miffed about the assumption behind this ("just because I'm in love with a two-year-old doesn't make me some kind of pedophile!") but he didn't bother protesting. At least he gets to see her still. He's happy with that much.

Jake's here to find the girl he's meant for. Quil's here so Jake can keep an eye on him. You're just along for the ride.

The four of you just saw a movie- _Ironman. _Claire loved it, surprisingly. She kept laughing in total fascination at the screen. Quil and Jake got their mega-sized popcorns refilled just before you left, and are now throwing it at each other. You offer Claire a handful scooped out of Quil's bucket, and she coos in delight.

Quil glares jealously at you. You grin back.

Jake descends into the subway. "Come _on, _guys."

You follow, and so does Quil, hugging Claire close against him. The crush of people closes in, and the little girl starts to wail. Quil panics. You and Jake share a meaningful glance and press on through the crowd.

And then…

You see her. You _see _her. You see _her. _Her. Your one. Your only.

The rest of the world slows, skidding to a halt. Your breath catches in your throat, and you gasp, feeling an ache like you've been socked in the stomach. The gray roof of the subway tunnel spins, narrowing in. The world is reduced to you, and to her. The people in between you are nothing. They are invisible- no, they don't exist. It's just the two of you.

Your first thought, almost inane in its inadequacy, is _she's beautiful._

That fades quickly. The second thing you realize is that she's clinging to the arm of a man, some stranger with a beard. He's not good enough for her. You realize that instantly.

Her eyes turn to you, then, and you forget about him, about the universe, as she smiles right at you.

Your heart bursts in your chest. You need her. You lunge after her, rushing through the crowd of people, past Jake and Quil and Claire, who's crying louder now. Nothing else matters (though Quil will kill you for that when you phase next) because you chase her.

And then the rest of the world becomes solid again. They push the two of you apart, and you gasp as she drifts past your outstretched hand. Everyone else comes between you. She disappears into the crowd. You stand there, stock-still, waiting for her return.

It doesn't come.

Jake and Quil eventually struggle toward you. "Dude," Jake protests, "what's with you?"

Quil shakes his head knowingly, kissing the top of Claire's head. "He imprinted, right?"

"Yeah," you whisper, and that single incoherent syllable somehow makes it real. You imprinted on a total stranger, a random face in the crowd. You're in love with a woman you don't know.

You're meant for her, though, and if she never wants you, you know that's best for her, and so it's also best for you.

"I love you," you say, so quietly even your brothers can't hear you. But little Claire looks up at you and laughs.

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	2. The Long and Winding Road

**REVIEW! This chapter is to "The long and winding road" by the beatles. Please google and listen to it while reading this chapter. I worked real hard picking out music for this tale, so please make use of it! and REVIEW!**

Six years.

You have counted every day. You, with a perfect memory, recall every instant, every heartbeat, every false hope, every disappointment.

And you refuse to give up. She's out there somewhere. She's real. Of the seven billion people on the face of earth, one of them is her, and you will find her. You can't help her if you can't find her.

You worry about this a good deal, because it's your goal in life to keep her happy and safe, and you don't even know if she's alive.

But you believe she is, because you have to- and besides, you'd know. It would register in some deep place in your consciousness if she _weren't _all right. You are certain of this.

After all, the two of you are tied together, aren't you? You are hers forever, in a way that is more than anything else. You will never love anyone else.

And you don't know her name. You know nothing about her.

But it simply doesn't matter. You are hers. You love her, and that is all that matters. Someday, you will find her.

It's been six years. You have not stopped phasing, since you estimate she's younger than you.

It's something you've thought about, because all you _can _think about is her. And all you know of her is her appearance. You remember every detail of her face, every thing about her is imprinted (no pun intended) for eternity upon your changeless mind.

You have to find her. It's your obsession, your purpose, your _raison d'etre, _your heart, your soul.

One of your tools is a sketch of her, done from memory (you always did like to draw) which you show to people.

Find this girl, it says. Reward.

There's no reason, and several people have called. Why do you want to find her? Are you a relative? Is she a runaway? A criminal?

You give pointedly vague answers, because you don't want to admit to them (or yourself) what you are.

Essentially, you are a stalker. Trying to find a total stranger so you can spend the rest of your life with her… if the police knew about this, they'd probably lock you away.

But you know you would never hurt her. If she wants nothing to do with you, you will have nothing to do with her.

You would never force so much as your friendship on her. She has nothing to fear from you. You would convince her of this, but you can't find her. Until, one day, six years into your search, the call comes on the private cell number you have for this purpose alone.

"Hello?"

Your voice sounds strange and breathless with anticipation- you don't recognize it yourself.

"Hello. My name is Fred Williams. I saw your poster. The one with the girl-"

"Yes? Do you know where she is?" You pray he will ask no questions. You can't answer them.

"She lives on Lakemont Boulevard. In the Sunset building. Apartment 12D."

"Thank you. Thank you so much. _So much," _I breathe.

"She calls herself Rachel."

"Thank you again, sir. I don't know…"

"I live in the apartment above hers. You can drop the money by when you come to see her," he informs. His voice is cold.

He's selling her out, you realize. He thinks you're some kind of criminal coming to get her and he's risking that to get the money.

You would be furious at him, but without his betrayal you would never have found her. "I'll do that. Thank you. Good-bye."

You shut the phone and start the car, quickly. It is a short drive to Seattle. You don't breathe the whole time, it seems.

Until you have climbed the stairs and stand in front of her door.

You knock softly.

You have come home.

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	3. I Will Possess Your Heart

**REVIEW! This chapter is to "I will Possess Your Heart" by Death Cab for cutie. Please google and listen to it while reading this chapter. I worked real hard picking out music for this tale, so please make use of it! and REVIEW!**

"Sit down, kid," she says colloquially. You take her up on the offer, your legs aching from the long walk up her rickety staircase. Your wide eyes dart around her apartment (she invited you in!) and take in every detail, because if she's repulsed by your truth and commands you out of her life, you will always have this moment, these memories.

But always your gaze returns to her, never failing to adore the only thing in the world that matters to you. She is a miracle, every moment. That is a truth that resounds ever truer in you now that you've found her, you've found her.

You've succeeded. You know this triumph from talking to the others- from their memories.

The first time Quil made Claire laugh.

The day Emily agreed to marry Sam.

The look on Kim's face when Jared said _I love you _for the first time.

Although they aren't your own, they are your strongest memories. They pervade every thought with their passion. And now you have one to add, one success that will hopefully be followed by a hundred others. You have found her, and now you can add on to your triumphs in so many ways, because she is now within your grasp.

"So, you're the creep with the posters." I like the cadence of her voice, the gentle rhythm, almost teasing, soft, like poetry, like music, only without any grand intentions. It just is, and it fascinates me. I lose myself in the cadence of her speech. "Kid? I'm talkin' to you. You got anything to say for yourself?"

"I'm not a stalker."

"Coulda fooled me."

She doesn't seem angry, though, you like to think you would recognize that. No, she seems almost pleased, laughing, teasing. "Well, I saw you… a while ago. In the subway here in Seattle."

"You're the kid with… the big kid with the big friends, right?"

You grin. She remembers you! After all this time, that single moment you shared is still significant to her. It has been a memory for all these years. "That's me."

"That was six years ago," she points out. And you shrug.

"Well… I got this feeling…" this is your chance. Your chance to tell her the vast and terrible truth. "Do you believe in love at first sight?"

"That's a mighty personal question, kid…"

"Please."

She smirks. You lose your breath at the simple beauty of the expression, of her exquisite, perfect happiness. "No."

You feel that word like a punch in your stomach. Then you can't tell her. She'll never believe you.

Worse, she continues, "I don't believe in love, as a matter of fact."

_But I love you. _The words hang there, unsaid, so poignant you're almost sure she can hear them to. "Well… I guess… I guess there's only one way to explain it." Not the truth. She doesn't trust you. She doesn't know you. "I thought you were simply the most attractive person I'd ever seen in my life, and I wanted to see you again." Strictly speaking, it's the truth. She is the epitome of beauty. But of course the reality is so much more.

"Well, that's flattering." You try again to place her accent- not quite Southern, maybe a hint of it in the broad vowels and slurred nasal. And then she laughs, laughs outright, and all thought flees your mind at the simple _perfection _of it, ringing like a bell in your ears.

"I just… wow, I guess I've been looking for you for six years… So, not to be anticlimactic, but… wanna catch a movie sometime?" you ask, smiling wryly.

"No." She softens this blow, though. "Like I said, I don't believe in love, and I don't date. But if you want to, you can hang here with me for a while."

You can't agree eagerly enough. As she stands to fetch drinks and food, she turns back, those rich eyes gazing into your heart, and says, "Hey, I never got your name, stalker."

You stutter it out, lacking eloquence in the ferocity of her gaze.

She smiles at your incoherency and flounces away.

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	4. Dear Jenny

**Theme song: Dear Jenny by the Dresden Dolls. It's really perfect for the chapter. and you should listen to it. Yes. And you should review. Yes. REVIEW!**

She sits beside you on her black leather couch, her smile not budging as she offers you potato chips in a big blue bowl. Shamelessly, you dig in, the delectable salt and grease heavy in your empty stomach.

"You eat like a pig, kid," she says, and you nod.

"Mmm-hmm…" you mutter around the Lay's. She laughs again. You gasp and try very hard not to choke on your potato chips.

Once you swallow, choking down the food, you say, "So, what's your name?"

She stares, her deep blue eyes widening, and then starts to crack up. "You're kidding!"  
"What?"

"You've been stalking me for _six years _and you don't know my name!"

"The guy upstairs said you _called yourself _Rachel, but he made it sound like that wasn't your real name," you explain.

"It isn't. He the one that gave you my address?"

"Yep."

"That bastard," she comments blandly. "I think I'll kick his ass when you leave. Nothing against you-" she interrupts when you wince- "But I don't think he needs to be giving my digits to a bunch of random stalkers."

"That's what I thought… Wait. That guy you were with, when I saw you the first time. You said you don't date."

She stares for a second. "You mean you don't know?"

"No." What is she _talking _about? "I don't know anything about you."

"Except what I look like… so you mean you didn't even know, when you started following me? You've been after me for _six years _and you don't even know what I do?"

"Your job?"

"You could call it that."

You wonder what she's talking about. Is she frustrating you on purpose? She seems to be taunting you. So you tease, just a little gently, in response. "You are the most annoying woman in the world."

"Thank you."

"You never did tell me your name."

She scowls. "I choose not to divulge that information at this time, kid. That answer your question?"

"What am I supposed to call you, then?" you prod, still- desperately, hoping- that she'll open up, that she'll trust you.

"Whatever the hell ya want. Man upstairs likes it when I'm Rachel. Tim at two on Fridays calls me Mandy. Eli every other Tuesday thinks I'm Lynn. Na, tell ya what. Call me Jenny- I heard it in a song. And that isn't taken yet."

"What?" You are even more bewildered now.

"Oh, that's right. You don't know. Kid, when you work like I do, who you are doesn't matter. It's who they think you are that counts."

"What do you do?" You finally ask.

"Why the hell are ya stalking me? See, I can ask rude questions you don't wanna answer too!" she exclaims, irritated.

You gasp at having failed so. It is a totally unexpected emotion. The strength of it blows you away. She's _annoyed _at you, and you would gladly die right now, just sink into the floor so you can never inconvenience her again. But you can't reveal that to her, it'll scare her, and that would be even worth. So you reply lightly. "Okay. Let's play twenty questions, my friend."

"Deal. Me first." You nod, glad her anger has faded. She seems teasing again, sweet, and on top of that quite happy to have gotten her on way. You have no intention of withholding that from her, not ever. "Where're you from, kid?"

"La Push. The reservation near Forks," you clarify."

"You one of 'em giant kids that doesn't grow up but doesn't stop growing?" You stare. "There was an article in the paper 'bout y'all."

You nod. "I… I guess… what about you? Where are you from, pretty lady?"

She mock-blushes and says, "Can't you tell?" You shake your head. "Boy, you _are_ a fool. I thought I had the most noticable accent ever. Well, I'm from North Carolina- a down-South girl. Why are you stalking me?"

"I'm in love with you. Why don't you believe in love?" The questions change in tone, suddenly.

"Cause of my childhood trauma. Why are you in love with me?"

"I don't know. What was your childhood trauma?"

"My dad got drunk and beat the crap outta me- and my siblings. Amber, Ashley, Amanda, Andy- my mum was one for alliteration. One day I got sick of his shit and beat back. Why'd you decide to hunt me down?" she says, all of it so matter-of-fact. You wince at the thought that anyone would dare to hurt her. You'd comfort her, but it seems wrong for the situation. Instead, you answer her question.

"I couldn't forget about you-believe me, I tried. How'd you end up here?"

"Police came after me for kicking my dad's ass. Tried to haul me away. I ran. I was thirteen, and I wound up here with no skills, no money, no nothin'… too young to get a legal job, too dumb to work the drug runs…" she trails off. "What where your parents like?"

"My mom's… not exactly… chaste." She snorts aloud when you say this, and you're glad to hear the sound after her pain being revealed. "I don't know my dad. If you couldn't get a job, what do you do?"

She stares right in your eyes- you hear the beat your heart skips- and says quite clearly, and in no uncertain terms, "I'm a hooker."

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	5. Mr Brightside

**REVIEW! This chapter's song is Mr. Brightside. **

You feel it instantly. The familiar fury… it is irresistible. To think what she has had to turn to, all the things she's… done… and she's yours. Your mate. No one else's. This isn't you, the man, the person with thoughts and intelligence. It's the wolf, and he's closer beneath your skin than any of you like to admit.

You don't even do it consciously, but a deep growl rips from your throat as your form wavers. The wolf is close now, from your stomach up your spine, a great vibration, tearing at your sanity- no.

No, you won't do this.

Sam and Emily, you idiot, Sam and Emily. Or Sam, specifically. Emily isn't bothered by it as much. But you've _seen _Sam's thoughts, you've _felt _his pain, you _know _what it's like. You know he'd still, even though she's forgiven him, even though they're married now, and happy, you know he'd still rather die than have to look one more time at the scars on her face.

You won't do this to yourself.

You won't do this to her.

You force the calm down your spine, just as firmly, a cool hand chasing the red-hot fury back down, down to your core where it originates, putting it away for some other time.

You don't even know where to begin. "Wha… who… I… why?" That seems just about right. "Why the…" why the hell would you do something like that, you idiot! You could get hurt! You don't want to consort with criminals like that… I won't let you get injured. And all the diseases, and the- calm. Calm… "What…" what can I do to help? What do you need? "How…" How can I make sure you never get hurt again? How can I make you mine?

"My turn to ask the questions," she reprimands, mildly. You nod. She sighs, and runs a hand through her long hair. You notice the way the light glints on it- it's a dark red, a rich coppery color like the sun setting against the waves at First Beach. "What the _hell _was that?"

"What?"

"The shaking thing. What's with you, and does it have something to do with why you're stalking me?"

She's your imprint. You're allowed… no, you're supposed to tell her. She's a member of the pack, a new sister. She is one of you. You are the one who is supposed to initiate her. The truth. Tell her the truth… But you can't. "That's two questions," you whisper, and you can hear your throat closing up.

"No, it isn't- well, it's two questions, but they have the same answer."

"You're quick," you say. She grins.

"Thanks, kid. But flattery will get you nowhere."

"Well… it's a long story."

"I have time," she says, softly, almost tenderly. She reaches out a hand, a long, pale hand- her fingernails are painted a bright pink, the color of a highlighter's ink- and runs it across your arm. For once you're wearing a shirt, but the thin cotton fabric doesn't stop you from feeling the sparks, the sheer power, that shudders through you at the contact.

But when she touches you, you don't feel the wonder of her touch. You feel the shadow of all the other times she's touched, just like that, all the people she's allowed to touch her (because she had no choice) and all the things…

You struggle again to maintain your calm. Because when she touches you, even gently like this, it isn't- it isn't, you know it isn't, because she loves you. It's because she places no value on contact, on touch, on love… she doesn't believe in love.

To her, this touch, that means more than the world to you, is nothing- just a brush on the arm.

And that makes up your mind for you. "It's like this. Me, and my pack of giant friends… we're… werewolves."

You close your eyes and listen for her laughter, her disbelief. The only thing you hear is, "It's your turn to ask the question, you know. But if ya just wanna sit there, that's cool too."

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	6. Always A Woman

**REVIEW! For this chapter, listen to Always A Woman.**

"I… what?" It's the most coherent thing you can think of. In fact, you're quite proud of your eloquence, given the circumstances.

"Not what I was expecting. Ain't you going to call my career choices into question?" Teasing you. She's _teasing _you, and you've just told her… she knows what you are, and she's laughing about it, such a beautiful laugh (gold, like wheat blowing in the field) and so loud and clear.

"No, actually… how can you just… believe me, like that?" It's suddenly more urgent to you than any questions about her. If she trusts you with _this _unlikely revelation, maybe she can believe the other. You can tell her the rest of the story, the last big secret, and know that she will accept it.

You hold in your breath, and, to no one' surprise, she disappoints you again. "I don't. I'm suspendin' disbelief for the remainder of this… evening, until I come up with a decent alternate theory and some good questions to throw at you. Got any proof for the werewolf thing?"

The ups and downs of this woman- she keeps totally shocking you. You can't get a handle on what she'll do next. She's a mystery.

And you feel like she shouldn't be. Sam knows Emily's thoughts as intimately as he knows yours. Quil has taken to spending whole days outside the La Push elementary school, because he senses when she'll come out of the double green doors crying and _needing _him. Jared anticipates Kim's "fat days" and is there with a bundle of flowers or chocolates and tells her again how beautiful she is.

But for you… the center of _your _universe is sitting right in front of you, and you can't even figure out how to answer her questions. "Yes. I do. Touch my hand," you say, and anticipate the touch with closed eyes. There are other ways to prove it, you know, but this is _definitely_ the most preferable.

Her hand brushes gently across yours, and you grit your teeth at the now-expected surge of electricity and power, radiating inward from the place where she touches you to the center of your being.

You clench the fist she isn't touching- you would never perform such a violent motion while she was nearby. It would be far too easy to hurt her like that. She's so delicate compared to you.

"_Damn. _I didn't notice before- you gotta fever, or something?"

You shake your head. "No- or rather, all the time. I'm always like this. All of us are. It's probably because of the metabolism. My body works real hard so I can keep running, keep phasing, when I have to. And I digest food way faster. It's hard to keep a werewolf full."

"That's so not sufficient proof, you know," she says, shaking her head.

You sigh. "Yeah. Want to see a werewolf?" You'll have to be very careful. You'd die before you'd hurt her.

"Sure!" You risk a glance at her captivating eyes- they are gleaming with excitement.

"Be careful. If you want to watch, go over there. In the kitchen. I don't have it in my blood like some of the others, not as strongly- I'll explain later- and my control isn't naturally as good. I could hurt you."

She nods and, for the first time you've seen, does something you asked her to.

You unleash the rage. It's not hard- it never is- but this time, it's especially simple to find the place, usually deep in your stomach but currently just beneath the surface of your skin, where the wolf is.

All the others- you probably couldn't even count them. All the others who have done… _things… _with her. With _your _imprint. With the center of _your _life. With the one _you _love.

Yours.

Yours.

She is yours, and they have no right to- there. Your back ripples, your shape changes, explodes outward, the fur springing from your smooth skin as your bones twist and your form expands.

She gasps.

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	7. Dance, Dance

**This chapter's song is Dance, Dance. Please go listen to it. and REVIEW!**

And you settle down. After the first time you, or any of your brothers, phased, you can change back fairly easily. Sam had a terrible time of it his first, but the rest of you at least knew what was going on.

You find your true form, your human form, and you change, slipping into your real skin, the you that is yourself. Even though you are still furious at the thought of her, of the one you so desire, giving what you would kill for away for _money, _you can't hurt her. You settle into the way you are supposed to be.

And you look expectantly up at her, at her totally blank face. "Shit," she breathes- you aren't meant to hear it, only your superior hearing aids you in this. And then she straightens and addresses you.

You close your eyes to hear the accusation, the terror, the who-knows-what. You wait to be ordered out of her life, to hear her horror and hate. "You'd better get some clothes on," is all she says, and that quite mildly. The sweet tone of her voice falls delicately on your ears. You stare at her.

"Anything else?"

"Oh, and it's your turn to ask the question."

"How can you… just… no. I have a more pressing question. What is the whole story of how you ended up like this? All of it, not leaving out how you felt, anything. I want to know," you say, and she closes her eyes.

"No."

"What?"

"I can't tell you that." She says it so simply, like _of course not, _like she doesn't plan on ever changing her opinion.

"Why not?' you demand fiercely, almost enough to scare her. She's a little shaken, obviously, and you immediately soften your voice. "Why not?"

"I can't do justice to the story… and… It's too hard."

Still, her tone is nothing but matter-of-fact. She doesn't say it like she's admitting a weakness, merely as though she tells the truth, the simple obvious facts.

"I just turned into a wolf in front of you. What can be harder than that?"

"You have no idea, kid. You don't think it'd have to be pretty damn bad to turn me into this?" Her words are still brash, but her eyes are looking anywhere but at you. You relent.

"Please."

"All right- but I need three more questions, first."

You consider it, and then nod. There's nothing you really _want _to keep from her anyway. "Deal."

"First, why are you stalking me?"

"You asked that one already."

"But I didn't get a satisfactory answer." There is no caution in her expression. She's not backing down on this, so you tell the truth.

"I know you don't believe in love, and that makes this so much harder… I… part of being a werewolf, as I believe we've established I am, is called _imprinting._" Her gaze is level again, right at you, and you have to look away. Your eyes focus on the door, not the one to the kitchen. It's slightly open, and you see a pale blue wall and a dark blue bed. You look away. "Imprinting… how do I explain this? It's like love at first sight, only several million times stronger. When you see the person you're meant to be with forever, for the rest of your life, if you're a werewolf, you just _know._ It's… you see her, and you know nothing else matters, that anything she wants, you'll do for her. I imprinted on you."

You say it as subtly as possible, merely slipping the phrase into the conversation. It does not go unnoticed.

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	8. Endlessly

**REVIEW! This chapter's song is Endlessly by Muse**

You should really be getting used to this by now- the way she takes everything almost preternaturally calmly, how she allows your most stunning revelations to be incorporated without a word into what she considers the truth. "Question two: what _exactly _does that mean for me? How does that change my life?"

You draw a deep breath. You want to lie and say, 'It means you're with me. You have to be.'

But you can't lie to her… if this is the life she wants, far be it from you to take that from her. Sam, you remember, faced this dilemma. When he imprinted on Emily, she wouldn't accept him. And he had to accept that. He didn't have a choice then, and you don't have a choice now- the choices are hers.

"It doesn't change your life… unless you want it to. It's not like you're obligated to change yourself or anything about your life. You don't have to do anything at all…"

Again, she is overly perceptive. You like that about her, but then you like everything about her. She _understands _things, so easily, and makes these intuitive leaps that cut straight to the heart of a problem. "Third question. Last one."

You nod.

"How does it change _your _life?"

You cannot look at her. It's hard to look away, but impossible to meet her too-curious gaze, as you tell her the simple and very strange truth. "It means that I am in love with you."

You hear her exhale. It takes a second before you can continue, realizing she remains strangely silent. There is no verbal reaction to your words.

That really can't be a good thing.

"And so much more. It means that I… am here to give you what you want. What you need. Anything you ask me for, I will be more than happy to find. I'd go to the ends of the earth for you- I'd die for you."

She snickers.

"What?"

"That sounds so stupid, honey. Hate to be hatin', but you do realize that's one of the dumbest things anyone's ever said."

You look down, ashamed. "It's the truth. Not a romantic exaggeration. Not some idiotic lie. It's a statement of fact. I'm trying to explain this… it's hard."

"Sorry. Continue."

"It means I want to be with you. Quil- one of my packmates- imprinted… now this is weird… on a girl named Claire about three months before I imprinted on you. Promise not to run away screaming?"

She nods.

"Claire turns nine in December."

The only response is a shrug. "So you're a werewolf who pals with child molesters. Believe it or not, I've known weirder people."

You laugh aloud. "If Quil were here, he'd rip you into pieces for that accusation. He… loves Claire. Like I love you. He would never be _able _to hurt her, any more than I could hurt you. Right now, Claire needs a friend. And that's what he is- a dependable, reliable, fun, trustworthy friend, someone who does anything with her, always laughs and smiles, and yet never leads her anywhere _dangerous. _In ten years, she'll need a boyfriend-"

"Probably a heck of a lot sooner than that," she mutters.

"And Quil will be waiting, when she's ready, when that's what she needs. Just like, if you ever need me, I'll be waiting."

Weighing the moment, you look carefully at her. There is a guarded expression in her eyes- like a veil of pale white clouds over the perfection of a summer sky.

You brush a burning hand across her face, and she smiles tautly.

Before she turns away, you think you see a tear in one eye.

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	9. Gravity

**REVIEW! This chapter's song is Gravity by the Dresden Dolls. It's the reason I wrote this whole fic.**

"You owe me an explanation, now," you prod gently.

She nods. "I guess I do. You'll have to forgive me, I'm not all that good at storytelling. But you want the whole sorry tale, don't you?"

"Yeah. Every minute of it. I want to know everything about you," you whisper with a fierce intensity. It's exactly everything you want- to see her past, to know what she loves and hates, to _understand _her_. _

"It doesn't exactly show me in the best light," she cautions.

"Like that matters to me. Every facet of you just makes you even more wonderful… in my eyes at least."

"All right." She takes a deep, shuddering breath. "This is the story of how a nice girl fell from her normal life into a sordid world of crime. Are you ready to hear it, kid? Might spoil your innocence."

You take her hand firmly, but not with enough pressure to hurt. "I'm ready."

"Okay…"

"No more stalling."

"Once upon a time, in a dinky town somewhere about forty miles south of Raleigh, North Carolina, there was a family. Five beautiful children, Amanda, Ashley, Andy, Amber, and Jenny, lived in a big, sprawling family-owned house just on the good side of town. It was barely beyond where the trailer park turned into the town, but they made it work. Until one day, their loving mother was found dead. Drive-by shooting. Never caught the killer.

"That changed the father forever. His wife had been the gainfully-employed one, and so he was poor, and had to start renting the lower levels of the house. Everyone was crowded into two rooms. He was miserable all the time, moping around. The kids ran unsupervised around town.

"And then somebody introduced the man to a way to remove his problems- specifically, booze. He started drinkin', heavy and hard. And then he started to take all the sorrow out on the kids. It was about a year of that when Jenny couldn't take anymore. She borrowed a pocketknife from her boyfriend- kid named Willie Harris."

You can't restrain a growl at that.

"That night, when she came home from school, Amber was crying. She was the youngest, and the prettiest li'l girl you could imagine- had the whole stereotypical blonde hair blue eyed baby faced look going. It was bad enough he was laying into the bigger kids. They could take care of themselves. But Amber was only six years old.

"Jenny hadn't planned to use the knife. It was back-up. She was going to threaten him with it. Tell him to stop. But when she saw that little girl- she couldn't hold it in. She cut the asshole pretty bad. He had to go to the hospital, and he didn't have any qualms about family loyalty, seeing as how he was drunk at the time. The police came the next day.

"When they tried to take Jenny, the others held 'em off for a while. Andy jabbered and Amber told stories and Amanda sung and showed off her new toy piano… and Jenny slipped out a window. She run, hitch-hiked, pawned poor Willie's knife for a train ticket and a li'l bitta cash. Wound up in the city of Seattle, as I'm sure you can see," she says, waving her hand in front of herself like an actor bowing after a show.

"Well, without so much as a middle-school education, she didn't have many career options. Poor Jenny was on the streets, starving. A man drove by in a shiny silver car. She ran after it, knocked on the windows, asked for a little money, a little food, anything…"

You know where this is going. You imagine this man clearly, his lecherous eyes taking her in, knowing how precious and beautiful she is, and conspiring to commit a crime vast in its unimaginable horror.

"He said of course… if she'd do one little thing for him. And I…" she breaks her third-person narrative at this emotional juncture. "I did. I was thirteen years old. I was starving to death. I didn't have a choice… I'm sorry."

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	10. In Your Eyes

**REVIEW! This is where the song picks get a little sketchy. I'm gonna do like Stephenie does on the BD playlist and put it in parantheses until I'm completely sure about them again. (In Your Eyes) and there's more than one version, so it's the one that isn't gospel. Here. /watch?vsthn8wSKrJM**

You breathe in, trying to contain the pain. "No. You have nothing to be sorry for. You did nothing wrong."

"Yeah. That's what you think, kid." She rolls her eyes. "But thanks for the cold comfort."

You try to figure out what to do, what to say. Finally, you go for another question. "What happened to your brother and sisters?"

"Foster care. They're doin' okay now. Drop by sometimes. None of 'em can afford to help me out, more than a week off every so often. They're pretty happy. Andy's joined a bike gang or something like that. All I know is that he's got a new tattoo every time I see him. I scarcely recognize him now. Amber got married to a nice guy who thinks she lights the moon- stop staring at me, please- and Amanda started a band."

"That's good. And I wasn't staring."

"Yes you were."

You shrug. "All right. You got me. Sorry to be so madly in love with you."

She raises her eyebrows. "Love?"

You realize you hadn't quite broached this concept yet and cast about for the words. "I… Look. I know, because of the imprinting, that I love you. And from this one day we've spent together, I've seen something in you that makes me realize that you really are perfect for me. I don't just love you, adore you, worship you. I also like you. You're an intelligent and determined person. And you're very beautiful."

"You forgettin' what I do for a living, kid?" she says brusquely. Not quite what you were hoping for, to tell the truth. You were going for something a little more along the lines of 'I like you too.'

God, that sounds like it came out of the sixth grade, doesn't it? But it's the truth. You'd settle for friendship. "No. Not at all… I don't know if I could. What I'm saying is, I don't care—no. What I'm saying is it doesn't make a difference. I don't get a choice about being in love with you. I don't _want _a choice. But I want you to choose me."

Her eyes are again darting around the room, anywhere but at you, and you can't bear it. You need to know what she's thinking, and because as a person you really have just the slightest acquaintance with her, there is just one way to see into her mind.

You gently grasp her face and pull her to look at you, right into your eyes.

She gasps, and so do you. For the second time, you are falling. There is nothing but her eyes in the universe, and you can't bear the intensity of it. It's like staring at the night sky, the same color. You swear you can see planets drifting in her gaze, orbiting around her jet black pupils, her eyelashes a steady drumbeat against her cheek as she blinks, slowly, slowly, slowly.

"Choice. What're my choices?" she says softly, and you feel the crack as the words break the spell.

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	11. I Walk Beside You

**REVIEW!"**

**(I Walk Beside You)**

** "Well, you can stay right here. Say you never want to see me again, and you'll never see me again. It's as simple as that," you say, and hear something else shatter.**

You think it's your heart, though there's no way to be certain.

"Is there another choice?" she says, so casually that it _almost _affects the euphoria that sends you practically leaping through the ceiling.

"Yes. There is. You can tell me what you want, and I'll get it for you. You can give me a chance to change your mind about love. You can come with me, right now. Leave this place, this nowhere, and never look back. Come to La Push with me. Live with my mum, or Emily and Sam, or I'll rent a room for you, or you can stay with me. Anything. Get a job if you want. Don't if you don't want. I've got one, working down at Jake's shop. Good business. Great pay. I can take care of you. If you'll let me."

You are breathless after making this offer. Your eyes close, and with that motion so slight it's barely a movement at all, you drift still farther from her, until you're in a little world of waiting, all alone, where no one, especially not her, can console you, as you wonder.

Again, she is calm and cool. "In exchange for what?"

A tiny sad smile curves across your face. "Nothing."

"Yeah. Right," she rebuffs, and for the first time you detect anger in her voice. The hand that's still touching her face falls to your lap.

You clench your fists and again restrain your fury. That she could doubt your love!

This time, only one obstacle can keep you human. You throw yourself into the abyss of her eyes, and fall there, watching timelessness spin past, seeing the sorrow that lurks inside her.

When you have connected yourself enough to speak, you say only, "I love you."

She rolls those overwhelming eyes, and so you repeat it.

"I love you. You have no _obligation _towards me. You don't have to return or even acknowledge my feelings. But I will always be ready to give you anything you want, whether it's a material thing or support or even just leaving you alone. I'm yours," you pronounce, and it's a fact.

You say it like one, not like some foolish lover's promise, broken in a moment as easily as water.

As an aside, that saying makes no sense. It is well near impossible to break water, after all. But it's something your mother always used to say.

And it sticks with you now, for whatever reason. This tie is not fluid as water, but solid as stone.

It will last forever, even if you have to bear it alone.

"So you're offering… what, exactly? Unconditional anything?"

"Pretty much. Tell me what you want. I'll get it for you. What _do _you want, though? You do have to let me know- I can't read minds."

**REVIEW!**


	12. Check Yes Juliet

**REVIEW! this chapter's magical theme song of awesome is "Check Yes Juliet."**

"Tell me something first," she qualifies.

"Anything."

"What do _you _want?"

You draw in a deep breath. _It doesn't mean anything, _you try to tell yourself. It doesn't mean she loves you, or wants you. It doesn't mean she's going to accept you. It doesn't means she cares for you.

"I want you to come back to La Push with me. I want you to leave this awful life behind and forget it ever happened. I want you to make a new one, one where you're safe, and loved, and happy. I want to be beside you every day and every night. I want to kiss you. I want to earn your trust. I want you to fall in love with me, and I want it to be as easy as falling asleep."

She starts to laugh, a desperate, deep, woeful laugh, and you ask what's so funny.

She gasps out the answer between dark chuckles. "I have insomnia."

You sigh and take her hand in your own, watching as your dark skin covers her fair. "Look. Metaphors and pretty words and everything… can't say how I feel. So I'm going to put it as plainly as I can. I'm no poet, Jenny, and I can't lie to you." You bow your head and squeeze your eyes shut. In the darkness of your sight, the world swims into bright spots of her eyes. "I love you. I love you, and I want you to come with me and be _mine. _I'm yours. I always will be. But I want you to return that devotion. I don't expect it. I don't ask it. But I desire it."

She nods. "All right. Let me pack my stuff."

"What?" You can hardly believe your ears. The way she simply accepts it.

"Screw that, I don't have any stuff worth carting all the way to La Push anyhow."

"I… huh?"

You can't figure out how to form a coherent sentence. You can't figure out how to breathe. The world is spinning, spinning, spinning, and as you turn she's the only thing that keeps you at all anchored. You would fall apart if she weren't there, smiling at your apparent folly.

"You asked me to run away with you and leave this shitty life behind. That's exactly what I'm doing. I'm sick of this, all of this, because frankly it's disgusting and unpleasant and I don't want to anymore. So I'm coming with you, kid, unless you changed your mind and you don't want me."

You laugh aloud. "How could _anyone _not want you?"

"You'd be surprised, kid."

You stand and pull her up by the hand you hold, careful not to use your excessive strength to yank it from the socket. "Run away with me. Get out of here. Come be happy."

"Didn't I already agree to that?"

"Yeah."

She shakes her head at you and follows as you genteelly open the door for her and she strides out of the little apartment.

Neither of you look back.

**REVIEW!**


	13. Chapter 13

**REVIEW! Geez, i'm really really sorry about the wait. i forgot ALL about this story. i promise i'll update again. soon.**

You are almost nervous as you open Sam's door for her. What will she think of your family? What will they think of her?

They are your brothers, your only relatives, your closest friends, your other selves. And she is the love of your life.

What will happen when the two things dearest to your heart collide?

You know that those who have imprinted in your pack will support her and you unconditionally. After all, it's not like even your new (what? Girlfriend? That's presumptuous. True love? Too haughty. You settle for 'responsibility') the prostitute can be a less appropriate mate than your leader's two year old niece.

Quil really does take the cake for least acceptable imprint. So you really shouldn't be so terrified. Sam accepted the baby imprint pretty easily, and Claire's his dependant. And even the unimprinted guys could understand, after seeing Quil's thoughts.

You have no reason to be nervous. So why are you actually sweating? Your hands are cold, but you can feel hot butterflies churning in your butterflies.

"They can't be _that _bad," she mutters to you.

You are shocked and gloriously thankful that she would think to comfort you, but you shake your head. "They aren't bad at all."

She grins. "I'm not that bad either."

"No." Your voice is gentle and filled with love. "You're not."

She shakes her head, and you release the sudden delicate tension in the air. You love her, yes, but she knows this and it's not time yet to press your suit. You don't want her to be uncomfortable.

"Sam!" you call. "Brothers? Anyone here?"

There is a clattering of graceful but nonetheless clumsily oversized bodies, pouring from the walls as though they were hiding there. Sam is, as always, first.

He greets you with the calm, "Here, brother," greeting, according to his ritual, and then turns the corner and gasps.

"This is…"

She waves cheekily at him. "Hey. I'm with the tall, hunky guy who doesn't wear a shirt."

"Which one?" Sam asks, grinning, as the rest of my pack pops into the hallway, their eyes widening one by one as they rake over her.

She laughs, and you almost want to cover your ears. The sound is too perfect. It _hurts _to hear.

There are sympathetic glances thrown your way. Others have experienced this, and the rest know it from their remembrances. It is an excess of emotion and love and you can't bear it.

"I like her," Jake says with a nod. "I like her a lot."

You glare at him for a brief instant, until you realize he truly _isn't _threatening whatever place you may hope to have in her heart. She's been accepted as a friend by the pack. She's one of them now, as much as you are.

Sam nods too, and offers a rare smile to both of you.

"Care to introduce the pretty lady?"

She laughs again, and this time it's just a tiny bit easier to withstand. "He wishes," she says.

"I do."

"What?"

You shake your head at Seth's cluelessness. "You'll get the story soon enough. The whole thing. For now, want to offer our newest pack member some food? I'm hungry too, by the way."

"When _aren't _you hungry?"

"Never."

You all laugh and she trails you into the kitchen.

**REVIEW**!


	14. Sound Of Pulling Heaven Down

**REVIEW! And listen to Sound Of Pulling Heaven Down by Blue October**

"Hello," you greet her softly. You try to avoid the inevitable staring, but like a magnet, your eyes are drawn to her face. In this quietest moment yet, you find yourself noticing new things about her.

God, but she's _beautiful. _You knew that already. And it isn't a good enough word. Exquisite, maybe. Or perfect.

Yes, perfect. Because even the little flaws of her features add to her. You know, for instance, that the left side of her nose is a little bit tanner than the right, and that her hair doesn't ever lie quite flat in the back, and that tiny scar on her forehead. You try not to think what it might be from.

"You're staring, kid," she replies, and you shake your head. Not in denial, merely to clear the haze.

"Sorry."

"That's okay. Least you were staring at my face."

As opposed to… Oh. Right. You feel abruptly quite stupid. In fact, you have to restrain a blush. Compared to her, you do seem like the kid she calls you sometimes.

"I take it you're moving in here?"  
"That was the plan." She smiles a little. "Easier than livin' all alone. I've had my fill of that in ten years, thank you very much. Unless you mind."

"Not… not at all…" The idea that she will be in the same _house _as you, under the same roof day and night, that you will see her perfect face and hear her angel's voice and laugh with her and _make her _laugh and…

You cut off your thoughts before they can turn too hopeful. Dazedly, you attempt to decide whether or not this is a normal thing to do. Do male and female friends live together in the house recently vacated by his parents in an ordinary situation? Ever?

The only thing that pops into your brain (admittedly, you're fairly distracted) is that in bad sitcoms it always ends up with either the two of them married or him admitting he's secretly gay and moving to Canada to marry her brother.

She interrupts your disjointed thoughts. "So, plannin' on makin' a move, kid?"

"What?"

There is a loud snicker at your cluelessness. Fortunately, the sarcasm in the sound keeps it from that excess of perfection that hurts your ears with its ringing beauty. "Well, I thought, what with this true love thing you're always on about, you might like to take me out to dinner. Though you might wanna eat beforehand if you don't want to spend your life savings on food—it's a nice place."

"You… where are we going?" You can't quite remember how to think.

"I'll drive, kiddo. Dress up. You want to make a good impression on our first date, right?"

Date. Dear God, you're going on a date with her. Your first real date _ever, _in fact. "I… I… I'll be ready in a while."

"Okay."

Abruptly, you stop in your tracks and turn to look at her. It gets easier every time. "Jenny?"

"Hm?"

"Thank you."

She grins. "My pleasure."

**REVIEW!**


	15. First Date

**REVIEW! and sing along to First Date by blink-182. pwease.**

She takes your arm casually. You shiver a little at the touch of her bare skin. Cautiously, you glance up at her—it's a mistake.

She is breathtakingly, incredibly, unbelievably beautiful. The word seems desperately inaccurate. There has to be some greater adjective, because all the superlatives in the world can't make simply beautiful describe the way she looks right now.

Her skin is practically glowing. The copper hair, twisted over her face into a beautiful bun, makes the pale color stand out even more. Her eyelashes flutter against the curve of her high cheekbones.

The dress she wore was short (a sarcastic part of your brain thinks 'why wouldn't it be? Isn't that kind of a prerequisite for her profession?') and a deep shade of turquoise that hugs her body.

She isn't wearing any make-up. You like it better this way. You imprinted on _her, _after all, not some idealized version out of a magazine. It's simpler. Natural. And she's every bit as beautiful.

"You're starin' again, kid."

"Sorry. You look… I… You look… very nice, by the way." You attempt to make it sound off-handed and fail epically.

She laughs at you. The direction of her merriment makes it barely tolerable, though your ears ring a little in the wake of the sound. It makes it hard to understand her words. "You too."

You hear your heart flop around in your chest like a dying fish.

She practically pushes you into the car and slams the door. You nervously buckle your seatbelt. She shows all the signs of being something of a crazy driver.

You don't regret it- she has you in Port Angeles within half an hour. You are relieved when you step, wobbling from the inertia, out of the car. You half expected Chief Swan to pull you over.

_That _would put the cherry on top of the ice-cream sundae of bad dates.

Not that anything that involves her could be bad where you're concerned. Overwhelming, certainly. The thought seems especially appropriate as she takes your hand and leads you into the restaurant. You feel like the skin she's touching is alternately plunged in ice and electrified by a thousand volts of electricity.

In a good way.

Of course. _Everything_ is good when she's there.

The restaurant is a tiny little Italian place. She greets the waitress by name—"Hey, Amber," and sits down at a table. It's a crowded room, and you're unsure whether you want to attack or bless your fellow inhabitants for diluting the power of her presence.

She orders a Sprite and cheese tortellini. She's a vegetarian, she explains, and you smile at the unexpected fact.

You stare distractedly at the menu and ask for the lasagne- the one with sausage and meat in it. Werewolves don't _do _vegetarianism. For once, though, you can't concentrate on the food. You're too busy trying to avoid the pull of her eyes.

You eat together, chatting occasionally with surprising ease. You will never get over how she just accepts things.

"So, any of the other wolves imprinted?"

**REVIEW!**


	16. Dark Blue

**REVIEW! and this chapter's song is Dark Blue. this is the last official chapter. there is an epilogue.**

"Not besides what I told you, no."

"Can you tell me about it? Imprinting, I mean. I'm a little curious about that pedophile friend of yours. The one who imprinted on Claire."

You sigh.

"It isn't like that. Not for either of them. Not now." You take Quil's part just as vehemently as he would himself. "He loves her. And, yes, right now she's eight years old. But he would never, never… He loves her, but he isn't _in love _with her, the way I'm in love with you. He just wants her to be happy. Like I want you to be happy. Someday, if she needs him to love her like that, he will. But for now… you have to understand. He would no sooner do _that _than _I_ would hurt _you_. I tried to explain imprinting as it applied to me personally… but maybe that isn't the way to do it. The truth is that it's different, really. It just means… I'm here. Whatever you want me for, I'm yours. Sam is Emily's. Jared is Kim's. Quil is Claire's. Unconditionally. Forever."

She stands. "I gotta go."

"Why?"

"Too much," she whispers, and you choke on air.

No. God, no. You can't let her leave like this. Not when the future, so new, is so bright. Not at this moment.

Never.

"Wait," you whisper.

Silently, she sits back down. You wonder at her lack of any response, until you notice she's flushing.

"What's wrong?" You are slightly embarrassed yourself. Grand romantic speeches aren't something you ever thought you'd catch yourself doing.

"I overreacted, didn't I?"

"Not at all. You've taken this whole thing really well. It's not every day you get a stranger swearing unconditional devotion to you." you offer.

She smiles. "I try."

The food comes out then, and you devour it. She grins as you eat, occasionally asking a question whenever your mouth is fullest. You explain about imprinting, vampires, werewolves… everything. She watches, and nods, and accepts it all.

Eventually, the meal ends. The plates are cleared, and you both stand. The sky is dark blue, navy against the pinpoint stars.

She takes your hand again, and this time the spark spins out of control. You turn to face her, and her eyes burn into yours.

"I love you," you whisper.

She doesn't answer, not in so many words. But you think it's more than enough when she throws her arms around your neck and her lips crash into yours.

A corner of your mind registers that it's your first kiss (you've kept it even from the pack). The rest of you is lost to the fire racing through you, setting you alight, till you swear that everyone looking through the restaurant's window can see you shining against the night.

You don't care.

No, you're too busy. Your lips are on hers, moving in a rhythm you didn't know existed but that you can now see holds the world together. Your hands are on her hips, gently holding her close to you. She winds her arms further around your neck, pulling your faces closer together.

The world is nothing but her.

**REVIEW!**


	17. Epilogue: Angel

**this is the epilogue. this story is now complete. the song is Angel by Leona Lewis.**

She fits perfectly in your arms. One more reason to adore her, the way she snuggles into your embrace like that's why you were made, to hold her close.

Perhaps it was.

You reach down and touch her face. She looks up at you, her eyes wide. You are lost, as usual, in the perfection of her gaze. But for once, you notice a new fervor there.

Yes. YES! You read sweet triumph there.

Your devotion has won you the greatest prize in the world. You are going to be permitted to spend the _rest of your life _by her side, making her happy. You can scarcely believe your good fortune.

And then that is redoubled as she whispers the words. "Look. I ain't gonna say I love you, kid. But I can tell you this. I like you a hell of a lot better than any other human being I know, and I think you're just about the best lookin' dude I've ever met. So I guess it's close enough."

"I love you, too," you whisper against her hair. The strands blow under the gentle force of your breath.

She sighs. "You're impossible."

"I try."

A quiet laugh, a brief silence. She holds you closer, and you are careful to remain gentle. She is _so _delicate. You are _so _strong. You could break her if you moved too fast.

"You never told me…" you muse. "What's your real name?"  
She groans and pulls away from you. "Do I have to tell you?"

You meet her gaze intently. Her lips are shaking a little. "You don't have to do anything. But I _really _want to know."

Silence. She crosses her arms.

"I know it starts with an A."

More silence.

"_Please?"_

Finally, she answers. She stares directly at you and hisses the words. "Fine! But if you ever repeat this to anyone, ever, even your little werewolf buddies, I will never speak to you again. Understood?"

It is your turn to be silent as you nod helplessly.

"All right. It's Agatha."

You laugh aloud. It's such _not _the name for her. When you hear Agatha, you picture a staid old lady, her graying curls in a crisp bun. Not your wild, red-haired, fiery imprint.

"Fits me perfectly, doesn't it? And to top it all off, you know what the name means?"  
"I must admit I don't."

"It means 'virtuous'." She erupts in laughter. After a second's pause, you join her. "Suits me, no?"

"Perfectly… but since I am never to call you that again, what would you like to be named?"

"Hmm…" she thinks for a minute. "You aren't taking to Jenny, are you? And I'd like to fit in with my sisters and Andy again… How 'bout this? You pick. As long as it starts with an A."

You gasp for breath a little. How are you supposed to come up with a word to encompass this angel?

That's what she is. An angel…

You tease her a little. "How about Agnes?"

"You're joking," she informs you. You nod.

"Yeah." You wrap her in your arms again. "How about… Angel?"

You can feel her smile as she leans her head against your chest. "I don't think that suits me any better than Agatha, frankly."

"It does," you whisper.

"I like it," she says softly. For once, she's obviously moved. It may be the first visible show of emotion you've seen from her.

"I like it too." And you slip away.

The gentleness in her voice gives you the strength to say it. You slip away from her and to the ground, fumbling in your pocket to pull out the ring you've been carrying with you for weeks.

It's nothing special. You can't afford it. But it's pretty, the big diamond flashing like her eyes, the spray of fire within it as bright as her hair.

"Angel. My beautiful Angel. I will love you forever, as you deserve. I will always be yours. Will you be mine? Will you marry me?"

She looks at you, and you can see the love in your eyes. For a moment, there is quiet, a perfect contentment though you are so nervous you can hear your heart beat in your stomach. And then she shrugs. "Sure. Why not?"

You laugh and laugh and laugh, pausing only when she scoops the ring from your hand and pulls you to your feet.

Your angel lands in your embrace again. Both of you know that is where she belongs.

For the first time, she says it.

"I love you."

And if you were any happier, you would burst, but you cannot. Instead you hold the angel in your arms even closer.

-Fin-

**please review.**


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